Cry, Sword Volume One: Broken Blade
by Rubedo the Crystal Blood
Summary: Naru is gone, and Keitaro is alone. Beyond the horizon there seems only to be a dark future ahead. When Motoko Aoyama rushes to Keitaro's side, they begin a complicated love affair that will change the lives of every resident forever.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

_Prologue...  
The Wind..._

* * *

"Oh…"

Two pink petals descended from the skies, waltzing with the wind. They blew by Keitaro's face and then swirled slowly towards Motoko. She watched, half-paralyzed with mild surprise. The young man exhaled audibly, pushing his glasses up against his nose.

"K-Keitaro…" she murmured awkwardly. No response.

It was odd to find him on the roof, alone. But then, everything he did was odd to her, because she knew so little about him. Apart from their relationship as landlord and tenant, they really didn't have anything in the way of real friendship. Sure, she did have _some_ feelings for him, but admitting that was just beyond her capacity right now. Besides, what good would it do…?

"Is there something you need?" Abruptly, he turned around and addressed her. Motoko blinked, somewhat taken aback.

"N-no… I was just going to…" She had forgotten why she had come up to the roof in the first place. "…call you down for dinner." Her heart accelerated slightly, and she nearly looked away from his face with embarrassment.

"I see," he smiled, speaking in his silly voice. "I guess I'll be going down then."

His smile permeated her thoughts: seeing it made her chest throb painfully. It was so completely wrong—it was just so fake... As he started moving towards the staircase, she shot out her hand and took him by the shoulder. "Why…?"

He looked down at her hand, "Excuse me?" Even though Keitaro continued to smile, his voice wavered a little bit. She felt the urge to hit him.

"Why are you smiling?! How can you be so emotionless when Naru—!" His muscles tightened, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hold her voice. But the damage had already been done. Keitaro stumbled backwards, grasping the wooden railings to stabilize himself. His face twitched between a half-smile and a grimace of utter heartbreak.

Motoko backed away, suddenly frightened. A heavy gust blew against her body, exaggerating the movement. In her effort to stay upright, she found herself falling forward as soon as the wind had died down.

"Ugh!" Keitaro grunted as he caught her in his arms. Motoko blushed trying to pull away. For some reason, he held her for a fragment of a second. When he released her, she had lost the will to back off. Instead, she braced herself against the same shoulder and stared lamely at the ground.

"I guess, in the end," he sighed, resigning himself, "I couldn't keep up with her…"

"…" He was blaming himself. But it hadn't been his fault. They had missed Naru's train by only two minutes, and even then Keitaro had pushed himself to the limit trying to get to her stop before she did. The only one who had really done anything to try and stop her had been him. None of this could possibly have been his fault. She told him this, but he only withdrew.

"Maybe if I could have been more honest with Naru, she might not have left. If I had been able to tell her how I really felt, then she wouldn't have just run away."

Keitaro no longer tried to smile. His voice no longer carried its upbeat tone. A darker side seemed to emerge, and it seemed he was hopelessly lost in his own abyss.

"How can you blame yourself for what happened?" Motoko looked into his eyes, trying to find some reason for this madness. Keitaro looked away, trying to hide his guilt, or whatever it was he felt he had to carry.

"How can I not?"

"Because," she hesitated. "Because everyone tried so hard to bring her back. If you take the fall, then everything we did for you means nothing."

He looked up incredelously. "So you're telling me that you tried to catch her for my benefit?"

Motoko's cheeks turned red. "You didn't really think that I did all of that on a whim, did you?" she asked. It seemed he had, for he turned his head away in a shameful manner. "Keitaro," she cooed soothingly, "You can't put this all on yourself. It's partly our fault too, you know."

He shook his head childishly, stepping back into the railing. Motoko stroked his cheek, wiping away a tear before it fell. He swallowed hard as she began to cry.

It had been something she had done out of a sense of being motherly. Now, it seemed, parenting Keitaro was the thing furthest from what she really wanted. Her heart began to thud against her chest. She staggered with pain.

She had wanted Keitaro to be happy. Did that mean to her own expense? "It's not fair…" she uttered, hiccupping with a sob. "It just isn't fair to be the only one to blame!" She smothered her face against his shirt, crying, "I want you to notice _me_ too, Keitaro! If you're the only one at fault, then how can you acknowledge everything I did for you?! Do I have to dress up as Naru for you?! Will that—…!" A gag, followed by muffled sobs.

Keitaro stared, his eyes glazed. "Motoko, I…" he said softly. He couldn't find the right words to say. How did one react to a confession of love as hers had been? There wasn't a single solution in his mind to the conundrum. How could he really say he was in love with her, since the one person he wanted was Naru? But he couldn't bear to think of the pain she would go through if he rejected her. It was too much already.

He didn't want to do it anymore. Naru was gone, and Motoko was here. One was a memory, the other a living, breathing being. This was real. He wanted something real. Shadows didn't satisfy him anymore…

Embracing her slowly, Keitaro caressed her shoulders and back. She shivered, looking up at him. "What are you—?" she started, but he sealed her lips with his own.

Motoko blushed hotly, shuddering slightly as her hands tried to push him away. She stopped breathing, holding still until he parted, where she panted profusely, body convulsing with each breath.

"Motoko," Keitaro beckoned. There was a hint of desperation. "If I promise to hold you, will you stay with me? You won't run away, right? Motoko…?" Something like a groan escaped her. Whether it was "yes" or "no", she didn't know, but she shook her head mechanically, as though the answer had been washed into her mind.

"I don't," he started, "I don't want to go through it again. I don't want you to leave…"

"I won't," she whispered, finding her breath. "I swear I'll always protect you." She placed her hand against his chest, symbolizing her oath to him, and took his hand and pressed it against hers. "This," she said, "will always be yours. No matter how you use it, it's yours…"

"Then," he replied, leaning forward and squeezing her breast, "How can I use it to make you happy?" He tried to say her name, but found he could not.

After a moment, Motoko smiled. She pressed against him, whispering in his ear, "Like this…" Their lips met a second time, and she felt his tongue slide past hers. She groaned anxiously, yanking against his hair.

Another gust of wind blew a single cherry blossom onto the deck. Far below, the wind chimes at the entrance could be heard singing their song.


	2. Chapter 1:1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

_Chapter One...  
Let's Talk..._

* * *

4 Months Later…

It stared at her, cocking his white-striped head to one side, his black eyes gleaming in the early morning sunrise. Motoko Aoyama stirred, raising an arm to shield her throbbing eyes. The little Thrush raised its beak, uttered a fearful cry, and took flight with the rest of its alarmed companions. Rising from her futon, Motoko scanned the room alertly, as though expecting someone to be there. But the room was empty, and she lowered her eyes longingly to the shallow impression at the other side of the bed.

Her hakama was strewn lazily between the door separating the bed from the rest of the room, and her soiled kimono beneath her bare body, stretched from a long night's escapade. She sighed, stood up, and began picking after her scattered belongings.

She walked across the room to deposit her clothes in a bin, then wrapped a clean towel around herself. Her sword, the Hina, lay sheathed on its stand. She picked it up and headed for the hot springs, observing the quiet aura of solitude that seemed to have bequeathed upon the dormitory by some higher power.

Wading into the steaming water, Motoko became aware of a lonely melancholy that overcame all other thought. It was tiring having to awaken every morning alone. Whether it was in her room, or in his, the result was almost always the same, and she always found herself looking forward to his returns late in the afternoon. Today was different, of course, but that didn't change the fact of the matter. It happened at such moments that she wished her elder sister, Tsuruko, were here to give her advice.

"Actually," she murmured, smiling slightly, "My mock exams are coming up soon, aren't they?"

* * *

"Oh, excuse me…"

The doors reopened at the sudden interruption, allowing the straggling commuters to finish boarding. The intercom buzzed to life, announcing their departure. The world began to fade away, faster and faster, until everything became a blur. Naru Narusegawa looked on it all with an odd sense of dispassion. It contradicted that eagerness she had bestowed herself this morning. It was normal of course. After cancelling classes the precious year, she would have to toe a fine line to avoid expulsion.

In the end, she had given in to Mei's urgings and withdrawn her dropout request. Although her mother had been slightly disappointed, she supported her eldest daughter's wish to continue her education. Besides, it would have been a letdown after trying so hard to get in.

There was a beep preceding the announcement of her destination. The train slowed to a stop, swaying her book back to one side. She held it tightly in her hands, standing up once the force of gravity ceased its hold. There were other students already leaving the station. She took a breath before stepping into the crowd.

* * *

"HAH!" A crack…

The sound of ruffling clothing…

A sharp gasp…

"UWAAH!!" The body of Ito Yoshino crashed unceremoniously to the ground. Half-armored, the loud crash produced by the action caught the attention of the other students. Motoko quickly returned to a standby position, eyes poised for the slightest sign of counterattack.

"Ah, crap. Not so intense, hey?" He rubbed the back of his neck, using his shinai for support as he got to his feet. She relaxed somewhat, her hands drawn to maintain a sphere of control. Her cold expression was the opposite of what he had been hoping for. For the last week, he had been trying to get her to smile. Being a new student, it would have benefited him to befriend the strongest fighter, even if she _was_ an outsider. Instead, what he got was severe criticism.

"You over extend your reach to the point where your body can't properly react to a sudden change in an opponent's flow," Motoko chided sternly. "You have to learn to read your own movements as well as your opponents. Being able to predict what I'm going to do next doesn't mean a thing if I can still outdo your reaction."

"Ah—s-sure… Whatever you say Aoyama-san."

"Heh! Looks like you drew the short straw again, Yoshino-kun." His instructor, Hozo Kashimoto, laughed semi-derisively. He bowed respectfully, receiving a hard slap on the back for his pains. "Well, she's always like that. Guess I'll be collecting that extra tuition then?"

In truth, he and some of his colleagues and made a bet. Motoko Aoyama, a famous student of the God's Cry school, was known for the cold, detached demeanor with which she carried herself. For reasons unknown even to himself, the very first day he met her, Ito had been infatuated with her. He certainly didn't expect her to take any real interest in him, but at the very least wanted her as a friend.

But he had been told it was impossible. The contest between he and his sensei had erupted to the point where he made the ultimatum to the man. If he won, he would get free lessons for one whole year. If he lost, Kashimoto would collect thirty percent extra from his current tuition.

As he packed up his things, the other boys threw out comments. These varied from praises to criticism, the effect generally being the same all around. The boy had a knack for the art, but lacked the devotion to completely grasp it. It would be a while before he could say that he really had any skill in swordsmanship.

He wasn't listening to any of it, though. His eyes were fixed to her femininely effeminate figure. The door jingled as it opened and closed, and she was gone.

* * *

"H-hey, wait up!"

Motoko paused in step and looked back. One of the students, a boy by the name of Ito Yoshino, took pace beside her. She continued walking after a brief acknowledgment of his presence.

"You're taking the tram home, right?" he asked. She raised an eyebrow.

"What of it?"

"Well," he adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder, "I take the same way. I figured maybe I could ride with you today."

"And you need my permission to do so?"

"Uh…" He blushed. She held back a chuckle. He was amusing, in some ways. They stepped onto the platform together, just in time to see the tram rising over the slope. Ito watched with reverence Motoko's casual catch of the outer-railing. She watched him struggle to leap onto the back of the tram.

"Having fun, it would seem…"

His cheeks were red. He caught his breath and laughed, "Y-yeah, I always do that."

He found an empty seat, and looked up at her in mild surprise when she merely leaned on the outside of the vehicle, hanging precariously over the rails. "You aren't afraid of falling off?" he asked, still more amazed.

"Not really. I always do this," she said with a slight giggle.

He snapped his fingers, "Hey! I got you to laugh!"

"Isn't that what people do when one tells a joke?" She glanced at him with faint look of curiosity.

Ito shook his head and grinned. "It's just that you always seem so cold and emotionless. A lot of the guys at the dojo say you never laugh or smile." She tilted her head. "W-what I mean is," he panicked, afraid he might have said something he ought not to have, "It's just nicer when people smile, that's all."

"I suppose you have a point there," her eyes fell to Tokyo University building, far off in the distance. It seemed so far away, but she felt as though she could grasp it. She stretched her arm out as if to try, even though her fingers closed around air. "Still," she finished, "you won't beat me with a smile on your face."

"You've got me there…"

"Get some practice in before Monday and we'll spar some more. Good luck."

"Yeah, sure…" He sat back, feeling warm inside. A friendly conversation with the unsociable Motoko Aoyama; he pictured mentally the image of them walking alongside the trees in the middle of a park when it clicked. Suddenly, Ito leapt up and leaned over the edge. "Hey, wait a minute!" he cried.


	3. Chapter 1:2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

Keitaro Urashima glanced at his watch: his appointment was late. He leaned back in the iron-frame chair, tapping his foot to the sound of Beethoven's Number Thirteen. The chair opposite him scraped as it was pulled backwards, and a young woman sat down before him.

"Sorry I'm late, Keitaro." Motoko smiled gently and laid her left hand over his. He began playing with the little ring on her finger, knocking it against his own in silence. After a few moments of this, he looked directly at her and smiled back,

"We still have a few hours before it starts. Is there anything you want to do?"

She thought for a moment. "Well…"

* * *

The whole city seemed to glow. Seeing it even now, Motoko could only be impressed by the sheer amount of twinkling lights. For every light, there were perhaps one hundred, maybe even one thousand people. It was a scale so unimaginable, that she felt very tiny. In such a vast world, she and Keitaro were still connected.

When the cable car came to a complete stop, he opened the door and politely motioned for her to step out first. They began to walk down the mountain, arriving at a shrine to the gods not too far off. They bowed respectfully, each one making their own silent prayer.

Would they always have serene moments like this? She asked Keitaro aloud. He made no answer, and she realized that as long as she stood next to him and prayed, the moment would last. She felt the urge to embrace him, but it wouldn't be appropriate on holy ground. They finished paying their respects, and close to the station she gave him a passionate kiss.

"Did you talk to your sister yet?" Keitaro asked, halfway down the mountain. She shook her head.

"Only that you and I were involved. She was a little disappointed."

"That we jumped into it?"

She searched his face for the slightest sign of doubt. Seeing only concerned curiosity, she nodded and said, "Yes. She had hoped we would wait for the betrothal rites." Then, seeing the guilt wash over him she quickly added, "But that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to marry. The old ways and customs died out a long time ago."

"That's not it…"

"Then what…?"

He mumbled something like, "No, it's nothing," but was so indistinct that one could not be entirely sure. They left the cable car in silence.

* * *

"Twenty-five… twenty-six… There's one missing."

Naru looked up from the roster and quickly recounted. The seat in the rear left corner, nearest to the door, was empty. She frowned, "Yoshino's late again…"

"Well," she cleared her throat and began to write on the chalkboard, "If you'll turn page eighty-three where we left off the previous day, we'll begin our lesson: who would like to solve problems five, nine, ten, twenty-four, and thirty-three?"

A few hands went up. Naru began picking at random. "Gota, Nagahara, Hasegawa, Takamichi," she noticed a young boy scrambling for the door just outside the hall. "And Yoshino," she said loudly, just in time for him to stumble in, apology already half-spoken.

"—rry! Huh?" The classroom began to snicker. With a sympathetic countenance, Naru quieted her other student and pointed to the board.

"Problem number thirty-three," she indicated, "You were just about to solve it."

"O-oh—uh! Hang on!" he began rummaging through his duffel bag, fishing out various objects such as a wooden knife, a shin guard, and a notebook. His eyes fell with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Ms. Narusegawa. I seem to have—urm—left it behind."

She shook her head and groaned. "Just take your seat, Ito-kun." Laughter erupted from the general populace. The four students already standing began to write, while Naru noted the events of the session in her notebook.

* * *

When she stepped out about an hour later, rubbing her temples as she urged Ito Yoshino to hurry home, she felt exhausted and hungry. Normally she would wait until she returned home to eat dinner with her mother and sister. But the adamancy with which her stomach growled only reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat for lunch, having had to stay behind after her classes had ended to speak with her professor.

Rather than make a beeline for the Shinkansen, Naru began to wander through the streets. There were many cheap, though low-quality chains all around, and between them the occasional four-star money hole. Seldom did she ever find anything in-between. She settled for a corner stand at the park, across from a large beef-bowl restaurant. The colorful sign read: No. 5.

As she ate, she began thinking about her career goals. Teaching was fun, but she couldn't handle the ups and downs. It was hard enough managing nightly review classes a few nights a week, and even without her other classes she would still have a hard time doing it full time in the day.

Originally, her reasons for applying to Tokyo University stemmed from the urging of her parents. It just seemed like the right thing to say when success was expected of you. Now that she was there, she didn't even know what to do. What would she major in? How would she start her career? Teaching certainly wasn't one of her options. It was too stressful.

She had once considered business, but that was only because she wanted free food from the American fast-food chains. Paper-pushing was often too tedious, and she had experience with it, even as a teacher.

The relentless self-dialogue seemed to go nowhere. She quickly finished her meal and paid her bill. The manager stared at her for a moment, before going to the register for change. She brushed the hair away and looked around. The cold breeze made her shiver.

There was a couple not too far away, necking in the privacy of an isolated garden, mostly shielded by the large bushes. Naru blushed, looking away suddenly. It wasn't polite to stare, and she didn't want to be caught peeping on them. But something made her look back.

At times, they would host fireworks from the lake. On boats, large stocks of the burning rockets would fire in formation, giving off a nice reflection from the water's edge, and making for the perfect end to any romantic date. They often held such events unannounced. Tonight was one such night.

When she gazed up at the sky at the first loud crack, she saw something that surprised her. The man, with his back to her, was unrecognizable. But his partner's face was clear. "Motoko?"

* * *

"Ah…!"

She both jumped up in surprise and yelped in fear. Keitaro laughed and tickled her nose. "It's just the fireworks," he explained, turning his head skyward. "Look."

She looked. A large, neon pink heart glowed in the sky, expanding ever more against its red counterpart. Like a little girl when she is presented with her first dress, Motoko grinned and tugged against Keitaro's arm. "Let's go home," she said, giggling invitingly. He swiveled his head and laughed amid the cracking of his bones. They began to walk towards the Hinata House.

* * *

Shinobu Maehara looked up from her homework. Two thin silhouettes made their way up the steps, arm in arm. Her heart began to pound. She stood up and dimmed the lights in her room, waiting intently for the sound of the front door opening. The clock in her room let out a single "ding". She glanced at her watch.

She peered out into the hallway and followed the soft footsteps with her eyes. Where they stopped she knew was Keitaro's room. They did not move again. Placing a hand over her heart, she inhaled deeply, shuddered, and stole away quietly.


	4. Chapter 1:3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

"Ever since that day…"

The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet. She knew, because the vibrations carried through her skin. Without that sensation, she wouldn't have heard it amidst the noise from Keitaro's room. Shinobu continued on, unperturbed. She stopped at the corner of the hall, listening for any sign of other residents wandering about. Why she felt this paranoia, she didn't know.

The door was slightly ajar. The moon must have been full that night, for shadows danced about in the bright rays that glowed from the screen. She peered in.

Keitaro and Motoko sat in the middle of the room, the latter in the former's lap. A thin blanket draped over the finely defined expanse of their bodies. Motoko's white legs reflected the moonlight. The image was so vivid that one could make out a single bead of sweat rolling down their cheeks. Both had their eyes closed; both in passionate lip lock. As Motoko pulled away for a much needed breath, Keitaro bit her lip. She groaned aloud, her features contorting with pleasurable surprise. By sharp contrast, Keitaro seemed extremely relaxed. Shinobu's heart began to pound.

Ever since that day in Hokkaido, Motoko and Sempai had been over one another like two dogs in heat. The relentlessness of their nightly escapades and the audacity of their nature had eventually become something of a regular occurrence in the Hinata house. She had once even caught them alone in the hot springs. Very gradually, Shinobu reached for the wet patch of fabric between her thighs.

* * *

Splash! The cold water felt hot on her skin. Shinobu continued to scrub her laundry load vigorously. No matter how hard she cleaned it, the stains wouldn't go away. At least, that was how it felt. She couldn't see them, but she knew they were there: stains of impurity.

Why did it have to be Motoko? Through what points did they connect so well? Keitaro's astounding progress since Hokkaido was astounding, almost insulting. She marveled at Motoko's accomplishments thus far. If it hadn't been for the fact that she was responsible for Sempai's fast recovery, Shinobu would probably be confronting her by now. It was probably by the same consensus that the others tolerated everything.

The strawberry panties were clean enough. She had washed it so much that patches of the picture had started to rub off where she had pressed in the most detergent. The teddy-bear pair was next. She pulled it out of the soak bucket and began scraping it vigorously against the side.

But her arms were sore, and soon she decided that she had cleaned it enough, and put it with the other cleaned articles. The minutes of rest that followed were enough for the soapy water to settle so that she could see her cloudy reflection.

There were bags in her eyes. Her skin was probably pale and sickly from the many nights spent eavesdropping on the new couple. She pulled at her cheeks in vain, and finally splashed the water enough to sudsy out her image. Somewhere deep down, far in the depths of her soul, a fire lit. It grew, lighting up her flesh and spreading through her blood.

She had already finished for one night, but here she was begging for another. Her hunger was flinging itself out of control. At this rate, she would become one of those women who stood on street corners dressed like she was ready for business. A tear rolled down her face.

"Here's more for ya, Shinobu!"

"Oh!" Shinobu wiped the tear away and turned around quickly. "Su!"

Koalla Su, a junior at her high school, stepped up the stairs rapidly, heaving a basket of her own laundry over her head. Rather than leap up into a series of acrobatics that inevitably ended up with Shinobu cleaning after the mess, Su noticed the look in Shinobu's eyes and paused.

The fire continued to grow, as though reaching out to the dark-skinned girl, trying to burn her as well. As Su stared, Shinobu silently tried to take the basket from her arms. But Su tugged it away, forcing Shinobu to pull even harder. Eventually, she tried to yank it violently from her friend's arms, pulling Su towards her and causing her to slip and fall to the floor.

Her next instinct was to get up as quickly as possible. But Su was already upon her. The flames had caught. Shinobu trembled.

"S-Su…"

"Sooo… Guess ya still want some, huh?"

The lump in Shinobu's throat fell. What was supposed to be a "no" came out as, "Haaaah…" With little subtlety, Su slid her knee across Shinobu's leg, pushing up against the base of her torso. Shinobu clenched her teeth and closed her eyes, convulsing.

Su lowered herself onto Shinobu's body, giggling in a strange manner. It wasn't silly, or happy. No, Su's giggle was a dark prelude, a manifestation of malice and lust. Shinobu didn't have to have her eyes open to know the sadistic smile that was slowly spreading across Su's face. She felt her hands moving, even though she was pulling them in the completely opposite directions. Her lips parted, even though she loathed the tongue that bid its passing.

"Mmm…! Hmm…"

Was it her groan, or Su's?

* * *

"So I can assume that you won't be coming with me then?"

Keitaro looked into the relaxed face of his professor and mentor, Seta Noriyasu, as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the atmosphere. He followed the wispy trails of smoke with his eyes, and sighed as they gradually disintegrated into nothing. The man laughed and proffered a box of cigarettes.

"How are your other classes going anyhow?" he asked, even as Keitaro gruffly refused the offer. "Ah geez, you're getting way too cool these days, y'know that?" Seta tucked the box away and spit his spent stick over the balcony. Ironically, Keitaro was the only one consuming beer. He did not, however, offer it to Seta in such a manner. Rather, the unopened products stood on the shelf, as though tempting his colleague.

"You ought to check in on Haruka. She's been idler these days than most."

"Is that so…?" Seta mused.

In recent weeks, the relationship between his aunt Haruka and Seta had started up, albeit slowly. Whenever Keitaro saw her though, she always had a lack of things to do, and would always check in on the workings of the Hinata apartments. Though he had tried, Keitaro usually took proper care of the building on his own.

"Actually, I've been thinking about it…"

Keitaro, who had been wearing his glasses, took them off and glanced at Seta. There was a pregnant pause, before Seta opened his mouth to speak. The partition opened slowly, and Motoko stepped out, fully dressed. She bowed embarrassedly towards Seta, and looked to Keitaro with a slight blush. Seta chuckled audibly and lit a second cigarette.

What he would give to be young.

* * *

Haruka looked up, shifting her lips with slight displeasure. Seta only grinned like an impish child and flicked a filter towards her. She caught it grudgingly and brushed the end of it on her apron, lighting it as she walked into the house.

Mitsune "Kitsune" Konno was sprawled over the couch. Whether she had shut off the television or not, it was off. Stacks of various tickets, stubs, and receipts were dispersed generously over the coffee table. She noticed half of an article sloppily written on a notebook, sticking out from a corner of the mess. An awkwardly neat stack of alcohol bottles decorated the foot of the furniture. Mitsune snored boorishly.

"Good morning." Motoko appeared at the top of the stairs and bowed her head respectfully. Haruko replied with a passive grunt before asking where Keitaro was.

"He's in his room talking with Seta."

"I see. In that case it can wait. Thank you," Haruka continued towards the kitchen, where she vanished behind the sliding door. Motoko silently began to clean after Mitsune's mess.As Haruka listened to the clinking bottles, she unpacked her groceries and muttered. "My what a mess you've made of things, Naru…"


	5. Chapter 2:1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

_Chapter Two...  
Swivel Starling..._

* * *

"When I look up at the sky…"

The melodies perforated her ears and swirled around her mind. Mei Narusegawa found herself singing. "…I have to wonder why we aren't here together. Through what clouds…" Next to her, her elder sister Naru chattered excitedly on the phone: talking to friends, no doubt. She rolled her eyes a little bit, but tolerated it. It wasn't often that she got to go to Harajuku.

"…have you been flying by? Oh, I wonder who stands by your side. Every time I think of you, I wish you were here too…"

"—Hey, Mei. You don't mind if we stop by McDonalds, do you?" Naru turned to her youthful sibling abruptly with her hand over the mic. Mei shook her head automatically and kept singing, much to Naru's chagrin.

"…instead of being lonely." There was a mini-parade taking up the center lanes. They had to stop walking to wait for it to go by before they could cross the street. The rock band she was singing with was loud now, and Naru had to yell to be heard over the phone. A float representing one of those cute anime characters from the many cartoon series prevalent in that day was the last of the peanut gallery. Even so, Mei jumped up and waved excitedly at the drummer in the rear.

Her eyes fell to the McDonalds on the other end of the street. She kept singing, even as people walked in and out of the store. "Since you took me to the cinema, you're the only…" She stopped singing. The song faded into the distance around the same time. As Naru began moving again, she tugged on her sleeve. She looked back slightly irritated,

"What is it?"

Mei pointed. "There, in front of the McDonalds… Isn't that, what's his name? Keitaro?"

* * *

Naru froze halfway through closing her phone. Her temple crinkled visibly. Her neck jerked one way, then the other, as though she was unsure whether or not to look up. A moment passed, and Naru thought better of it, and looked up. Thankfully, she could not see Keitaro. "R-really?!" she asked, feigning surprise, "I don't see him! Keitaro!"

It was odd to see Naru acting so skittish. She had only seen Keitaro Urashima through pictures, and had never met him in person. All the same, it was amazing that Naru had actually believed her. She watched the figure she had spotted disappear behind a throng of people.

"I guess if he was there, he isn't now." Naru scratched the back of her head, noticeably more relaxed than she had been a moment ago. Mei raised a brow, but decided to ignore the impulse.

"Hurry up! The light's gonna turn green!" she called.

Naru's phone rang again. As she hurried across the street after her sister, through the short block that separated them from their rendezvous point, and into the doors of the three-story McDonalds restaurant, she quickly replied to the text message from her friends.

Mei was in desperate need of schoolbooks, and so her mother had sent Naru out to help her get her school supplies. It wasn't that she minded much, but she had already made plans for today. Since the meeting was in Harajuku, they would stop at a bookstore along the way. Another ring, another text message: Naru looked up to find three of her classmates waving on the other end of the street. She smiled nervously as one of them took a photo.

* * *

"Motoki-san!"

It might have been the familiarity of the voice, or it could have been the fact that the name was only one syllable off, but Motoko turned around at sound. Three girls who might have passed for high schools squealed excitedly and dashed for a nearby restaurant. At was at "squealed" that Motoko immediately lost interest.

"It's a little sad to think I missed out on that," she murmured to herself. "What would Keitaro think of me if I were more… normal?" The thought was beyond her grasp, but she still tried to conceptualize a modern social standard of normalcy. Aside from her height, there were few things that really made her feel self-conscious. Still, not having to worry about demon-possessed swords and dark poltergeists sounded like a nice respite.

She entered a library and pulled out a series of books. Among them were: "The History of the Imperial Diet", "Code of Civil Procedure", "Code of Criminal Procedure" and, "The German Civil Code: An Overview". She checked out the entire stack, flipping through various pages in hopes that the print would be large. It was not, much to her dismay.

As she left the library, loaded down with study material, she noticed a pretty blue dress modeled after a traditional miko's outfit. It stood alone, with large tags offering it at various prices, the older, smaller ones crossed out and hidden by the larger, more visible ones. She saw Keitaro in a tuxedo, holding the arm of the mannequin which, in her daydream, was herself.

Licking away the drool hastily, she decided she might ask Keitaro about it later. It was highly unlikely, but she entertained the thought if only to get away from the storefronts.

* * *

"So, did anybody else notice how hot that guy with glasses was?"

"Mia! What about your boyfriend?!"

"Oh relax!" the girl named "Mia" pushed teasingly.

Another chimed in. "Yeah! Myako's right! He makes 'snazzy' work!"

"Since Izumi here is too scared to go and ask, why don't you Konoko?"

Naru leaned on a closed fist, bored out of her mind. Playing with her knuckles did little to alleviate the pain of waiting. Mei had a point: they _were_ boring. But they were still her friends, when they weren't acting like complete teenagers.

"Hey…"

They looked up at her, Mei even going to far as to cease sucking on her empty soda cup to listen. "You don't mind if Mei and I go on ahead, do you? We're all done here, anyway." Truthfully, Naru hadn't eaten a thing since this morning. At her proposal, Mei's face seemed to light up.

Izumi, Myako, and Konoko shrugged apathetically. "Make sure you're at the movies at six p.m.! If you're late all you'll get are the aisles!" they yelled. Mei seemed only too glad to get away from their company.

* * *

With their free time, they purchased Mei's books from the store, and Naru even bought herself a manga from the graphic novel aisle. As they enjoyed an ice cream cone from a street vendor, Naru's stomach started growling. Mei giggled.

"We can eat again if you want. It's past lunchtime already!"

Naru nodded with a grin. "So where do you want to go then?"

"Don't look at me," Mei indicated the vast selection of restaurants in their immediate location, "You're the one eating, so you ought to be the one who picks, right?"

The name 2nd Balloon seemed to shoot out at her. She blinked. Was it coincidence? Instinctively she felt drawn towards it. Without waiting, Mei began to walk towards it, popping the remains of her ice cream into her mouth.

She was being paranoid again. It was too conceited to think that someone was targeting her. The recent events had all occurred by chance. It might not even have been Motoko she had seen in the middle of the park at night. There was no reason to be so anxious. Heck, it was probably a good time to reminisce on old memories with a smile. That's what she would do. She and Mei needed some personal bonding time anyway.

"Hey, Naru! What's taking you? Did your guts spill out or something?"

Maybe they had. Keitaro and Motoko shared a friendly kiss over a single serving of food. A rumble, and there went her guts…


	6. Chapter 2:2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

It felt something like jumping onto an inflatable bed. Sometimes, one would leap so high and land so hard that the bed would pop, and its occupant would come floating to the ground. It was fun for the moment, but when all the air flowed out, all that was really left was an empty bag. And you could re-inflate that bag, and do it again and again, just for the euphoria of the thing, but what would be the purpose of that? It was needless and depressing.

Then again, she didn't really know how to explain what it was she felt. Maybe it was the picturesque lighting, but somehow felt like she was staring into a hallmark card. The couple might not even be the focus of the image, but if you think it's the sign over the shop, you're probably dead wrong. Trying to visualize a gestalt of the hidden morals in a greeting card was simpler than deciphering the human nature, since it wasn't as subjective, but it was no less worthless.

Discard truth and morals for a second, and you were still left with philosophy. Behind that veil was emptiness, and when that was realized, the world really stopped having meaning. Did that account for the smiles of the jumpers as they plummeted to their ends? Did they fall asleep and transcend into some holy dream? So they weren't really dead after all…

There were parts of the brain that were active only during the day, and parts of it active only at night. Amazingly enough, the brain probably did more in a single dream than it did in around twenty years of living in the light. The human being was probably a spawn of darkness, and so to darkness they returned. Maybe more proof that suicide really was the best way.

But she wasn't after suicide. In those few moments, she felt herself asking for a lot of things. Dying was the last thing on her mind, and yet the most prevalent. Ironic, how she should now be facing it in such a vulnerable state and only now feel outdone. She had, after all, conquered this darkness before.

The image of a man faded into her mind. It looked like one person, but she wanted to call it the other. But just as she visualized a name, she suddenly felt like it was the other person, and then again, and again, and again, in an ever ensuing nonsense battle. Would he even know her name? Would he still remember? She blushed at the possibility that he might, that he might even care about her.

But that part was probably a lie.

It was excitement, and maybe a little bit of fear. Globules of adrenaline began oozing out of her nervous system, accelerating her heartbeat and breathing. What followed was much less pleasant. The waves of emotion washed over her conscience. She was at once, happy, blissful, timid, surprised, sad, angry, and guilty. Naru was quick to hide behind a newspaper stand. Mei finally ran over to check on her elder sister.

"Hey, Naru…"

Naru didn't look back anymore. If she hadn't seen it clearly enough, she would have double-checked to make sure it was really Keitaro. But the first thing she had noticed was not the two laughing over a lunch date, but two little points of light. She might have missed them had it not been for those glares, but she saw it: two matching rings on their right hands. In fact they had been kind enough to toy around affectionately with them for Naru, so that she could get the greatest view.

Her appetite was gone, clearly, replaced by a feeling of utter dread. Above the happiness, and the memories, and the surprise, and the jealousy, there was the sense of guilt and fear. How would Keitaro react if she just went up to them and said hi, as though she were there to give them a great big hug. Moreover, given the circumstance, was she even welcome in the first place? It felt odd seeing Keitaro with any other girl, much less Motoko, of all people.

In silence, Naru slowly steered herself and her sister towards another eatery, far enough to avoid being noticed, but maybe close enough to overhear their conversation. No such luck, but she thankfully avoided having to confront them.

The saddest part was that she had even made plans to visit the Hinata House today.

* * *

"So shall we go?"

It had been several minutes since either of them had touched their food, and Keitaro's crooked grin melted away any other hunger pangs that bothered her. Motoko nervously smoothed her hair and shook her head. It was only after another minute that he began scooping their food into a foam box. Motoko found herself staring at her engagement ring again.

"It's pretty…" She poked at the three little grooves in the side. Keitaro's expression darkened.

"I wish you wouldn't wear it…"

"Because it makes you remember…?" She held it up to her face, looking at the matching set on Keitaro's hand. He nodded glumly. "Well," she said, after a pause, "you bought this out of love, so why shouldn't it belong to me?"

He hoisted his satchel over his shoulder as they got up. "I just don't want you to get the wrong idea. I mean…"

"You worry too much," Motoko pressed in as soon as they had departed the restaurant. "And if you're so concerned for my emotional well-being, I think that's proof enough that you love me," she assured him. Keitaro tried to smile, but the guilt stained his face like blood on a window. Motoko started walking, disconcerted.

"Say, your mock exam results come in today, don't they?" asked Keitaro, attempting to change the subject.

She nodded. "Do you think I passed?"

A laugh. Apparently he found that question funny. "I'm sure you did."

"Well, if I passed it was because of your tutoring," she added uncomfortably, unused to being so openly supported. But Keitaro shook his head.

"To tell you the truth I know nothing about law. I'm amazed that you've gotten this far, Motoko. You might even graduate before I do, at this rate!"

"You—!" she tried to hide the blush on her cheeks, and tried to steady the quivering in her body. She punched him half-heartedly, knocking him onto the street just a little bit. "—How dare you embarrass me like that!"

But he laughed in the way that he did, satisfied to have gotten the desired response. Motoko glowered the rest of the way home, her mind a little more at ease than it had been in the last few weeks.

When they arrived, the mail was already waiting for them on the kitchen counter. As if to affirm this, Haruka poked her head out from the pantry. "You're back. Hey, Motoko, you got a letter today." Keitaro peered into the boiling pots of food, adjusting the temperatures for each accordingly. Motoko picked up the red-striped letter, watching him stride over to the chopping board and start cutting the vegetables with fascinating speed.

"Check the exam results first," he prompted without looking up.

Opening the envelope was the easy part. Pulling out the parcel inside and turning it over to read was extremely difficult. Her shoulders tensed as she read over the lines. Keitaro paused momentarily, adding to the suspense. "I got…" she stuttered.

"I… I got a B. An eighty-seven percent chance of passing. I passed the Math II section too!" she nearly jumped up with joy, but restrained herself as Haruka walked into the room clapping, a box of dried fruits tucked beneath one of her arms.

"Congratulations, you made it into Tokyo University," she said coolly. She almost seemed to be downplaying it. But that would stop Motoko from celebrating. Keitaro gave her a thumbs-up and beamed. She blushed again and giggled happily, re-reading the charts.

"It looks like there's reason to celebrate. I hope you don't mind my dropping in."

Motoko whirled around in jaw-drop. Keitaro didn't seem the least bit surprised, but waved and greeted, "Hello again, Tsuruko-san."


	7. Chapter 2:3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

"HOH! EHAH! HAH!"

Motoko was the only one crying. As she struck Keitaro relentlessly, he could barely parry each blow, much less get a breath off of his chest. He smiled nervously, forcing Motoko to swing her blade even harder. Without warning, Keitaro allowed one of her strikes to knock him off of the rock, and into a large gingko tree. He used its trunk as a catapult, hooking the little wooden sword around the base as he swung around. The maneuver failed, and Motoko countered his attempted attack with one of her own. She jerked her left arm away and her blade up against the base of his blade, ready to swing against his lungs for a stunning victory.

"NO!"

"HAAH!"

Tsuruko, who was watching, began clapping vigorously. "Well played! Well played!"

As the mist cleared, Motoko leapt from the miniature crater left by the force she used to cushion the blow. But she was still off balance from the sudden and hard kick Keitaro had landed in her side. Taking advantage of her confusion, he swept along the ground, staring into her eyes as she passed—she seemed to be upside down—and struck the sword from her grasp in a single twisting motion. Not without recourse, of course.

Motoko swung her feet together like a wedge, grasping the sword from Keitaro's outstretched fingers and pulling it away. Rather than letting her take his weapon, Keitaro spun over to face the ground again, both bracing the ground with his hands and kicking the sword away with his own feet. Both weapons clattered some thirteen or fourteen meters away.

Motoko had a fist ready to pierce Keitaro's stomach, while he had a firm chokehold about to strangle her. Tsuruko Aoyama finally stood up and laughed loudly, breaking the tension of battle. "Bravo! Bravo to you both!" she congratulated.

"He'll make a fine husband, with a little combat refinement," she continued, once they had made their way back to her. Motoko blushed, either ashamed that she should fight to a draw, or ashamed that her sister should approve so affectionately of her fiancée. She glanced at Keitaro, who nearly wheezed from the effort, and managed to smile a little bit. He was _good_ after all. His combat skills had improved remarkably.

"A fine test, and very fun to watch," Tsuruko covered her mouth with her hand, a sign of politeness that contrasted very much with her invasive personality.

"If you just wanted to see a fight," Motoko griped, "then why did you have to pit us against each other?!" Tsuruko merely tilted her head in that mysterious way.

"Drama is fun. I think you of all people ought to know." She replied. Keitaro snickered.

Motoko elbowed Keitaro, addressing her older sister. "And just what are you implying?" she demanded. She liked humor, but not at her own expense. She could tell Keitaro was enjoying this too. She would have to scold him later.

"Anyway…" Tsuruko murmured, her eyes glazing over, and the tone of conversation shifting. She turned to Keitaro, smiling oddly. "I'm sure you've contacted your own family about the current state of affairs. I asked you last time to fill me in on the details when you knew. Well…?" She raised a brow, as if shaking Keitaro down.

He scratched the back of his head anxiously and nodded. "I did… They were… surprised." He struggled to coordinate his thoughts, both over his romantic notions of marriage and over his exhaustion from the fight moments ago. "They haven't decided what to do just yet, although I don't think they disapprove."

"They haven't even asked to meet your lover?" she replied, with dark undertones of distrust. Keitaro shook his head. His answer was innocent and truthful.

"Of course, they want to know more about Motoko," he indicated her, and she blushed more, "But they're a little more concerned about my education."

"Aren't _you_?"

Motoko cringed. She'd known this question was coming, and yet was caught completely off guard when it came. Her elder sister had a nasty way of asking questions in ways that they were most threatening. Keitaro only sighed tiredly, almost irately, before he said softly.

"The reason I asked for Motoko's hand in marriage is because she promised she would always be there for me. Naturally, by accepting such a generous offer, I am in turn obligated to give Motoko everything that _I_ am. I am," he took a deep breath, his voice wavering, while Motoko tried to recall a time when he had ever sounded so… mature. Then, even stronger he declared humbly, "I am undeserving of such unbridled love and devotion. I certainly would not choose to marry Motoko if I did not feel I could provide for her as a satisfactory husband…!"

A long silence ensued. During its course, Motoko took Keitaro's hand. The sun had long since set following her elder sister's arrival. She felt a warmth growing deep inside, and had to restrain herself to keep from giggling aloud. She felt giddy, like those teenagers running down the street.

"Strike me…" Tsuruko parted their hands, leaning in towards Keitaro. He blinked.

"Err… E-excuse me?"

"You heard correctly… I want you to hit me. Take your time, and strike wherever. Don't make we wait too long, though." She said this last part menacingly, as though the consequences would be dire. It was an odd oracle to receive a request from the elder sister of his future wife asking him to hit her. Keitaro looked to Motoko for a moment, who nodded grimly. Regardless of the reason, if wasn't a good idea to refuse Tsuruko Aoyama, the Undefeated of the East.

Keitaro braced himself, inhaled sharply, and made a feint strike towards Tsuruko's head. She waited calmly, and he switched to a kick. This too, she had predicted, and at last spun around his elbow. She swung over and kicked his legs away from beneath him. He fell into her arms, and she brought her lips to just within a kiss from his face. His eyes went wide, and she smiled broadly.

"N-neesan! What are you—!" Motoko gaped. Her sister pressed a finger to her lip to silence her, stood up, and folded her arms into place. Smiling politely she made her way towards the stairs.

"I shall look forward to discovering the results of your entrance exams in the morning, Motoko."

"But… Don't you want to find out about it now?!" Motoko seemed dismayed. Nothing made any sense.

"It will give me something to look forward to," she answered. A reason to stay the night as well, Keitaro realized. "Oh and, Keitaro?" He looked up with a winded grunt. Tsuruko let her eyes play into his.

"Try not to make _too_ much noise tonight…"

With that, Tsuruko departed their company. Keitaro blinked, and Motoko covered her cheeks. Rather than hide it, though, she immediately tended to Keitaro's minor injuries, helping him slowly up the stairs after her sister. It seemed that, at that particular moment, Keitaro seemed to realize, for he uncomfortably pulled away from Motoko's arms, smiling nervously. They entered her room together, Motoko closing the door behind her. The lights never went on.


	8. Chapter 2:4

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

"It wasn't very nice of you to laugh at me like you did earlier…" Motoko murmured deeply. She frowned, pinning Keitaro to the clean futon. He submitted silently, smiling in the dark. "You ought to sleep outside," she grumbled, disapproving of unresponsiveness. To her, it felt as though a dam were breaking inside her chest. Still, Keitaro remained silent.

The moments passed rapidly into seconds, and then minutes, five, ten, fifteen, and at last twenty. Motoko was only vaguely aware of that Keitaro was caressing her cheek. She could feel the sparkling contact between the two layers of skin. "So what are you thinking about right now?" she asked. It was somewhat irritating that she was unable to tell what was going through his mind in the darkness. Those eyes barely reflected the starlight flowing through the window. His musk filled her nostrils, intoxicating her. She felt her heart thud.

"I was thinking about how beautiful you look right now… You have no idea how dazzled I am."

The way he said that made her shudder violently. She pushed his hand away and mumbled indistinctly, "Don't do that…" Perhaps it had gotten brighter outside, because she could see his face very clearly now. She felt mystified, yet found, ironically, that her expression was mirrored through his eyes. "It's too dark to see my face."

"I don't have to see it… I already know."

"O-oh..." She let it drop. He reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. She arched slightly, and her lip quivered while he ran his palm down the length of her back. He could feel the soft, smooth skin, and touched the convulsing, sinewy muscles. A roguish grin spread along Keitaro's face as he gently undid her kimono. Motoko looked away anxiously while he explored her body, touching each and every sensitive point of hers that he could identify. She whimpered softly, encouraging him to go on.

A film of sweat coated her skin, giving off a rather pleasant odor. Keitaro groaned and tucked his face into her, licking and biting her earlobes. Again she moaned, his name escaping her like a wordless plea. She unwillingly arched into him, giving in to her sense of touch as she melted into his body.

"Do you think…" She gasped between her sentences. "Do you really think that I'm a drama queen…?" She clenched her teeth, settling into a steady vibration as the cool night air blew over her sweaty back. Keitaro chuckled mischievously, running circles around her breast with his tongue.

"You're my queen," he answered reassuringly, the joke unceasing as the ulterior topic. She twitched her lip and grasped her other nipple, twisting it to alleviate the imbalance of stimulation. Her thighs reflexively pressed against the gradually enlarging mound. Keitaro threw his head back somewhat and groaned.

An evil laugh rumbled Motoko's throat. She stroked against him, setting up a repetitive motion that left the both of them panting. In the brief pause, she removed Keitaro's shirt, her digits wandering over his chest. He followed her with his eyes, just staring as she slowly undid his pants. She looked away, embarrassed and also pressured.

With a nod of understanding, he pulled her up towards him, embracing her with a passionate kiss. She parted her lips only too willingly, crying out in delight with the sharp bite he issued to her lower lip. He pulled back to admire her beauty, laughing as he took note of the small love bite he had laughed, marking her as his own. She touched it tentatively, shivering while he undid her hakama with his hands.

She used her free hand to guide his, bringing it around her firm bottom and over the front end of her thigh. From there, he tucked his fingers between her crevice, reverently lining them along her seam. Motoko's mouth opened wide, and a soft little sigh floated away from the deepest parts of her being. Her tongue lolled, much like that of a dog's. Very slowly, Keitaro pressed his finger in.

"Nghah!" was her stifled cry. She kissed him a third time, one hand pulling against his hair, the other digging its nails into his back. He let out a sigh of pleasure, and she giggled weakly. He had always been such a masochist.

"You don't care that my sister might be—ungh—watching?"

"Should I be?" he looked over her eyes, focused on his task. She shrugged and laughed as derisively as she could,

"W-what if," she started, allowing herself another gasp, "What if you aren't a very good l-lover?"

He bit her nipple then, and she sobbed in sheer delight. He had two fingers inside of her now, and the fluids pooling at the base of her stomach flowed very freely. "You don't seem to be bothered by it much." He waggled a teasing brow, and she tried to seem unhappy. The climax ended shortly, and she lined his body as she fought for air. Her hands, however, were anything but idle.

He rolled his head to the side, licking her earlobes to stop the sighs, while Motoko's hands worked around the base of his now exposed shaft. As it lay against her thigh, heavy between her legs, it pulsated excitedly. She raised her torso enough to line herself over him, and he nearly clenched his fist around her back. She painted his member with the products of her lust, and he knew only too well that she was enjoying this as much as he was.

Keitaro squeezed her breasts together, and Motoko cooed lovingly. She shut her eyes, rhythmically pushing over his manhood. She saw Keitaro's eyes roll into his eyelids, and moments later he came, hard and with zeal, beneath her.

She raised herself triumphantly, satisfied with her power over him, and pulled his body over her. Keitaro still rocked with the echo of his peak, but he pierced her eyes with a gaze so strong and loving, that she almost cried out from the intensity. There was no pause, no respite. Keitaro quickly thrust into her, and she let out long wail, the blood in her body heating up more and more.

He smiled blissfully as her hot insides clamped onto his organ. She gagged, inhaling sharply before biting down on his neck. Their pace was slow, yet urgent, as though either one of them might suddenly break into a frenzy at any moment. The silence was broken periodically by Motoko's loving sobs.

As she drew closer and closer towards the top, she spread her legs more and more. With each push, Keitaro leaned over her further, until she was practically supporting his weight with her body. Their grunts grew louder, Motoko's whimpering rising over the cicadas outside. The world began to fade away.

She looked up at Keitaro with utter devotion. So fixed was she on a singular point, that it wouldn't have mattered if the world ended right then. Her heart wanted to jump out of its cage and explode, and for a moment she feared it might. But Keitaro's reassuring smile, and gentle yet firm grasp of her heart, let her know that he was there. Very suddenly, and very readily, she stepped over the edge.

Her loud screams tore her from her surreal dreams, slinging her into a reality far better than any fantasy. She looked into Keitaro's eyes as they glazed over, and actually began to cry as they climaxed together. Motoko wondered for a moment if that was how she looked at this very moment. It was embarrassing to consider the possibility, but also gratifying to know that he loved more than it felt.

They began to kiss again, downplaying their lusts to a more manageable state. And then, tired and exhausted, even sore, from the physical effort, Motoko fell asleep in Keitaro's arms, draping over his body, her lips still mouthing the words, "I love you."

Keitaro smiled and pulled the sheets over their intertwined bodies. He kissed Motoko's forehead tenderly, and ran his fingers through her hair again. She smelled strangely floral, and he liked it. She was here in his arms, and he loved it…

Overhead, a red moon vanished behind the dark clouds. The wind chimes sang in a melancholy breeze. Keitaro listened to the lullaby, humming along with it as he drifted off to a deep and untroubled sleep.

_"I am like a falling star who has finally found her place next to another in a lovely constellation, where we will sparkle in the heavens forever."_

_Amy Tann_


	9. Chapter 3:1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

_Chapter Three...  
Cold Pill..._

* * *

"This is pretty good, Kanako. Why don't you try some?" Naru's face reddened as she forced herself to swallow hot soba noodles. A mixture of sweat and condensation from the soup broth formed a fine coating of moisture all over her face. She ignored the burning and gulped hard, exhaling happily as the delicious flavors slowly rolled off of her tongue. Naru reached quickly for the cold soda next to her bowl, forsaking the straw and cap to pour it down her molten insides.

Kanako Urashima smiled demurely and took a polite sip of her red tea. "I'm somewhat glad to see that you haven't changed that much, Naru." Naru seemed not to hear over her food, and suddenly Kanako felt glad that she hadn't. Naru let her empty ramen bowl fall, wiping her lips as ladylike as one could with the end of their shirt sleeve. "Are you finished?" Kanako asked, standing up from her seat.

Naru nodded contentedly and let out a low groan, patting her belly as though it were a pet. Kanako chuckled and left a large bill, beckoning Naru to follow her. They left the restaurant silently, the atmosphere broken only by the long meowing of a little black cat, whom Kanako caught in her arms casually. "Oh!" Naru seemed surprised, "I remember that cat! So it was yours?"

"Y-you… didn't know?" Kanako was taken slightly aback. But she recovered quickly and nodded affirmatively, pointing towards the large hill a few kilometers off. "The Hinata House is over there, if you still remember," she explained. Naru's head bobbed up and down in response. "Although why you'd contact me," Kanako added, "I'm still not entirely sure." She looked Naru up and down.

"You couldn't contact Keitaro?"

Naru paused in mid-stride, but resumed walking, her voice slightly more anxious than it had been a moment ago. "N-no, he must have changed his phone number or something." Keitaro's elder sister was being rather interrogative today, she noted. It was unnerving. The questions hadn't stopped since they had rendezvoused at the station. Of course, who else was she to call? After what she had seen yesterday, her fingers hadn't even been able to dial the number for the main Hinata Inn line. As though she had heard that last thought, Kanako asked,

"And the main Hinata House line?"

"Oh, umm…" Naru racked her head for an excuse. "I didn't think of it, ah-hahaha…"

"I see…" She made a sudden left, and Naru swaggered wildly as she turned around to keep from getting lost.

"It's coming back to me a little bit," she commented. That much was true, at least. She could almost point out and name buildings before they came into view. In fact, from here she could probably walk to the Hinata House all on her own. Maybe she hadn't needed a guide after all. She looked at Kanako guiltily, noticing that Keitaro's ring was no longer on her finger. Had what she had seen the day before been real? Because she had hidden so quickly, she couldn't actually have confirmed for herself, but she had never actually gotten a good look at the couple.

"There's a shortcut right here." Naru stopped in front of an alley, and Kanako nodded approvingly and went down the indicated route.

* * *

"LUFAAAGH!" Motoko spun uncontrollably through the air, desperately trying to regain control of her own inertia. Tsuruko appeared to stabilize her, taking her leg and steadying her motions. Motoko's eyes went wide. She held her sword vertically and frantically tried to parry the triple blow given to her with three points of her elder sister's blade. "!" An opening. Motoko used the force generated by Tsuruko's spin to propel herself to an unguarded right flank, a perfect position with which to stab.

"You've gotten sloppy, dear sister," Tsuruko grinned, lifting her weapon up to interrupt Motoko's flow with its base and using this new momentum to fling her blade into the other hand. Then, swinging back over her head, she struck hard against Motoko's sword, so hard that it disappeared altogether. Forsaking the bokken for hand to hand combat, Tsuruko shot out a hardened fist. Motoko could only shield it with her arm, and the resulting spin from the absorption left her vulnerable once more. Tsuruko picked up her discarded weapon from the air and flung it over Motoko's neck, landing gracefully on the ground with a sigh.

"If I were an assassin, I would have broken your arm and cut into your jugular by now." Tsuruko held out an arm and caught Motoko's wooden sword. Motoko followed, splashing into the hot springs. The entire fight had lasted for a total of four seconds, and the majority of it had taken place in mid-air. Motoko gasped for breath, unable to fathom what had just happened.

The world spun around her, and she had to cling to a rock to stabilize herself. "Incredible," she remarked, "and when aerial combat is supposed to be my forte." The door slid open, and Haruka appeared holding an improvised fan: today's paper.

"Hey, Motoko," she called. "It looks like Kanako brought in a recruit." Motoko and Tsuruko looked up simultaneously.

"If she came all this way to bring her here, why can't she give the tour herself?"

Haruka's innocent smile masked a greater knowledge. She merely laughed and headed back into the kitchen. "It would be of personal interest to you to greet this guest, since you _are_ going to become one of its inheritors." Tsuruko nodded sternly.

"Go see to your guest. I have business with Urashima-dono myself. It couldn't be more convenient."

Motoko blinked. Business? Whatever it was, it probably had to do with the complex political structure of the ancient Japanese clans, something she currently had no reason to nose in to. And the way Haruka expressed her wish that _she_ be the one to greet their potentially new resident made her more curious.

She looked to her sister, who was apparently deep in thought, for she did not respond when she called to her. The guest could spare three or four minutes for her to change, Motoko decided. It would be especially rude if she introduced herself in her sweaty battle gear, bruised and scraped up from a fight. When she glanced back at Tsuruko, she found her sister already gone.

Keitaro would be back later today, having left early in the morning to meet with his parents, who had called about urgent matters pertaining to their marriage. When he returned, he would speak privately with Tsuruko about the various agreements. Traditional Japanese weddings were so very hard to arrange, and it would have been easier to do a more westernized rite.

But family desires were family desires, and they would be married nonetheless. Crossing few people in the process would ultimately make it easier. She looked down on the ring, her engagement ring, and smiled.

She didn't realize until moments later than taking it off as quickly as possible would become extremely imperative. She walked out through the door to her room, still daydreaming about her various fantasies, thoughts of Keitaro swirling freely through her mind. Her sword lay alone on its stand, gleaming ominously.


	10. Chapter 3:2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

It hadn't been a particularly horrible day, all things considered. Even in loss, the sparring match with Tsuruko had been good, and she was looking forward to her kendo classes the following morning. Like frilly little lace that decorated a beautifully made dress, Motoko reminded herself that she had received relatively strong scores in her recent mock exams. With a laugh, she remembered that it had been the term "mock examination" that had set her sister off, prompting the earlier fight, as though sword proficiency made up for the difference in expectation. Yes, in all the day had gone pretty well. But it stopped at that very point, as Motoko stepped downstairs in cargos and a brown collar.

"N-Naru…?"

"O-oh…! Motoko…"

A strained silence took firm hold. Motoko stepped off the last step and held perfectly still, both afraid that the slightest movement might shatter the stillness. Motoko looked Naru up and down cautiously. She was dressed in a yellow turtleneck, the token cross pendant hanging from her neck. She also wore baggy shorts, and her thin bag seemed to make her attire larger by proportion.

All of a sudden, Naru seemed to be the last thing Motoko wanted to look at. Her hands, tucked into her pocket, remained that way more so. Keep her eyes to Naru's dainty heels, Motoko inquired of Kanako's whereabouts.

"S-she went outside—something about checking on the Hinata House…"

"And Tsuruko?"

Naru blinked, glancing towards the little bulge in Motoko's left pocket, "Umm, no, I didn't know she was here." She smiled weakly and stood up, extending a hand out diplomatically. Motoko hesitantly shook it, keeping her other hand well out of sight. "So, how have things been?"

"It's been… interesting?" Motoko shrugged, watching as Naru sighed deeply and looked all around. "If you're wondering about the others, Shinobu, Haruka, and Mutsumi are the only ones home right now." Naru nodded, as if having expected as much. Motoko motioned for her to follow into the larger main hall. "These days, Kitsune is only ever home very early in the morning. She's usually off freelancing, and comes while we're all asleep, leaving before we wake up.

"Shinobu and Su are going to the same school now. Su started hanging out at school more. I guess she enjoys her extracurricular activities. Shinobu's always here, working. Mutsumi rarely shows up here, so I don't much about her. Oh, and Sarah started living with Seta again, so that leaves…"

She turned to Naru, changed her mind, and said, "…you."

They had walked a good length of the halls, Motoko's explanations coinciding with the passing of the various rooms. Naru stopped walking. Motoko carried herself a few more steps before slowing. She didn't look back, as though trying to urge Naru to continue walking. Fortunately, Naru did. She stuck her tongue out childishly and picked up the conversation all too cheerfully,

"Well, I've been doing my own things. Tokyo University and all that, you know… So not much interesting on my end."

The tension between them was growing increasingly strong. Motoko had to shake off the feeling that Naru was plotting something. She wasn't evil, but at the same time there was that emotional resentment deep inside. Something in her mind switched on, and she came to the least wanted revelation: If she was so afraid to show Naru the engagement ring, wouldn't that confirm her insecurities? It felt like a truck had plowed over her. But now that she had gone this far, it seemed it would be pointless to press the matter in further.

But it bothered her. As Naru walked and laughed at the same time, her tone and expression reminded her of something familiar. It was a something she absolutely abhorred, and her readiness to read Naru's state of mind made it all the more awkward.

"And… Keitaro? Where is he right now?"

They were standing in front of Naru's old room, one floor below his. She had indeed been timing this, Motoko realized. The word "fake" bounced all over Naru. It had always been a façade, her specialty, those fronts she put on to hide herself. It was the same way with Keitaro when he stood outside alone, reminiscing on some past memory or meditating on some future premonition. Of course, the difference between Keitaro and Naru was the reaction to her own presence. If so, then were Naru's thoughts really anything close to Keitaro's? For that oracle Motoko owed nothing to the young blonde.

"He," she chose her words carefully, "went out with one of his colleagues earlier." She didn't tell Naru he had left with Seta, or that it had been early in the morning. Such details were unnecessary at this point. She also didn't know when Keitaro would be coming back today, so that was left untouched also. But Naru persisted stubbornly.

She entered her former room without asking for permission, looking up at the clock that still hung over their heads. "So what time will he be coming back?" She walked all around the room, looking over everything and ignoring a particular spot of the ceiling. Motoko shrugged nervously, keeping out of the premises.

"He'll probably be back later this afternoon…" She watched Naru step below that particular patch of ceiling, not even looking up. Keitaro had long since repaired the hole between their rooms, even going so far as to mask the fact that there had ever been a hole. The repairs were nearly seamless, no sign of new wood among old. Then she looked at Motoko for a moment, her eyes narrowing. She took a step forward, then another, and another. And then she tripped straight through the door.

Motoko caught Naru in her arms, quickly pushing Naru back up and tucking her left hand away again. But Naru had already seen it. She looked at Motoko desperately, swallowed hard, and melted the face away, returning again to the previous face she had worn so adeptly earlier. "Thank you," she apologized, "I don't know what came over me just now… I must be tired." She thought back to the unoccupied couch in the living room. "Do you think I could rest here for a little while? I need to get my strength back." Then, as if to reinforce her need for good rest, she stumbled over her feet a second time, catching herself clumsily on the opposite wall. Motoko bit her lip and sighed.

* * *

"Not good…" Kanako panted hurriedly, dashing madly for the Shinkansen. She absolutely had to time it so that she darted through the doors just as they closed. At this point, her pursuers weren't yet sure which destination she was trying to reach, and Kanako had to make sure it stayed that way. From the train, multiple safe points were accessible, and so she could very likely throw them off of her trail. But if she was just a few fractions of a second off, they would either board the train with her, or she would miss her ride and end up cornered.

If she tried to hover around the station, they would realize what her plan was and head her off there. The only way to do this would be to go along random intersections, making her enemies think she was just trying to get away, and run along a particular route to lead her to the station just in time. She also had to factor in the possibility that they could work as a team and set up a net, so she avoided returning to previously trekked zones.

They were moving so quickly that the average passerby would not be able to see them. The wind tore off her ribbon, and she clicked her tongue angrily. Why now, of all times? Nine seconds left. She grabbed a street lamp and flung herself in the completely opposite direction. There would likely be a dent where her hands had made an impression. She heard a started scream off in the distance a moment later. Whoever these people were, they hadn't expected this sort of maneuver. The slowed suddenly, enough for Kanako to get a glance at the emblem decorating their left shoulders. And then she was facing the Shinkansen, its doors closing, three or four people still filing in. She had come too late.

"!"

As she appeared suddenly on the other end of the doors, trying to appear casual as though she had always been there, a portion of her skirt ripped open. She tucked it away, mumbling along with the others about the strange gust of wind that had come moments ago. This really wasn't good…


	11. Chapter 3:3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

"Nine-hundred and eighty-eight! Nine-hundred and eighty-nine! Nine-hundred and ninety! Nine-hundred and ninety-one! Nine-hundred and ninety-two! Nine-hundred and ninety-three! Nine-hundred and—"

Shinobu watched quietly from the rooftop. The freshly washed laundry was almost dry, and though she could have devoted some time to studying her textbooks for her classes tomorrow, she had stayed here, at the highest point of the Hinata House, to spy on Naru. The woman in question sat lazily in an armchair far below, her eyes on Motoko Aoyama as she performed her usual training duties. Shinobu didn't look at the heavy weight at the end of the long pole in Motoko's one hand. That would be feeding her ego, even if it were a silent acknowledgement of such.

Not until very recently had Motoko started kicking up the intensity of her training sessions. Less swings meant less time, but the increased weight meant greater strain. But five-thousand swings with half of an eighty-five pound dumb bell was still frightening. Motoko had been at it for nearly two hours, enough time for Shinobu to go shopping, which she had also neglected.

"FIVE THOUSAND!"

Against her will, Naru looked up from her idle thumbs. The air had been thick with sparks ever since she had arrived. Aside from Haruka, who had left to take care of other matters, no member of the Hinata House had decided to approach her, aside from Motoko who, most likely out of a sense of discipline and respect, tolerated her presence alone. She used the word "tolerated" because with each swing, the burden became heavier and heavier. It was too heavy at this point for her to run away, for fear it might all come crashing down on her, though the longer she stayed her, the more likely it would.

Now that Motoko was done with her training, which had come as quite a surprise to Naru, she wasn't sure what would come next. Where were the others? Mutsumi had been there earlier, apparently, but Naru had never seen her anywhere.

"Nyaa…"

A loud noise made Naru jerk her head behind her. Kanako's little black cat sauntered up, leaping over Naru's foot and up onto her legs. Its large ears flapped downward as it examined her, as though extremely curious. Motoko walked up and glanced at it, wrinkling her nose with mild disgust. "I guess she's back," she murmured darkly.

Naru blinked. "W-who? Kanako?" She petted her ears absentmindedly. Then she looked up at the setting sun. Motoko wiped herself over with a nearby towel. The little cat let out another "nyaa" and hopped away, bounding into the kitchen. Both of their stomachs growled simultaneously, and Naru stood up quickly. "Mmm… G-guess I better go."

Motoko raised an eyebrow, shook her head, and opened the sliding door all the way. "Come inside," she said warmly, "The pot Haruka started earlier should be finished now. You should eat before we leave."

As much as Naru wanted to leave, there was something about Motoko's tone of voice that told her to accept this hospitality as a condition for their good relations. Motoko nodded as it came into her head, and Naru swallowed hard. She hated to admit it, but Motoko was in a very good position to slice off her head if it became necessary.

"Leave the door open," Motoko ordered, turning to the pot and adding various seasonings and ingredients. She tested its flavor, dashing in a few more mint leaves, before she set the entire table quickly, including an extra plate for Naru.

It was all a little overwhelming. "I didn't know you knew how to cook," Naru commented.

Motoko did not stop working, but it was a very long time before she said finally, "Keitaro taught me a few things…" They both looked up at the clock at the same time. It was already half past seven. "I wonder where everyone is…" An allusion to Keitaro… Naru understood well that the current denizens no longer dined together at the same time. Motoko began ladling the contents of a bowl, which itself contained the contents of the pot, into Naru's plate. She sighed irately and began eating with a vigor uncharacteristic of her nature. Naru took a timid bite, always watching Motoko for the slightest change in bearing or manner.

"Oh! Hello!" A very happy voice floated in from the entrance hall. Naru knew instantly who it was. "I see you finally decided to drop by!" Mutsumi Otohime clapped her hands together, dropping a large bag of groceries in the process. Motoko stood up quickly and began picking up the mess, while Mutsumi greeted her old friend.

Her heart started for a moment. A feeling of déjà vu overcame her. Perhaps the others had changed in her absence, but for the moment Mutsumi seemed unaffected. "I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder!" she exclaimed, hugging Naru excitedly.

Naru was vaguely aware of a sharp, malicious stare glaring her down. Motoko looked away quickly and began sorting out the food, separating what was obviously Mutsumi's, and putting the rest in the refrigerator. Mutsumi looked up and waved. "Oh! Shinobu! Look who's here!" She swung Naru around, giggling.

She was in mid-stride, a basket of freshly laundered clothes in her tiny arms. Shinobu only bowed slightly, for the load she bore, and continued walking without a word. She didn't even look at Naru, who hailed her feebly, asking her if she wasn't going to eat.

"Oh, no… I'll eat later," Shinobu answered, glancing at Motoko with a look of what Naru would swear was jealousy. She then disappeared as fast as she could, her movements soundless as though she were a ghost. Mutsumi tilted her head, her eyes clouding for a moment. Before Naru could ask, Mutsumi turned back to her and blinked it away.

"So, would you like to go for a walk?"

Like Motoko, Mutsumi's voice implied that a refusal would threaten their relationship. It was different, a lot nicer and clearly more well-intended, but just as effective.

"You two go ahead. I need to clean up here anyway." Motoko agreed wholeheartedly. She wanted to be alone now. A relief from the relentless questions would be well-received at this point. Naru nodded glumly and followed Mutsumi through the front door.

* * *

"Gee, Kei-san sure is late today."

"…mm… Yeah…"

They stopped in front of the sandbox, looking over it with various memories floating around.

"It sure has been a while since I last saw you. I heard you dropped out of Tokyo University…" Mutsumi sounded disappointed.

Naru waved her hands in denial. "No! I just canceled my classes that year. I'm still a sophomore…"

"I see…" Silence.

There were so many questions Naru wanted to ask. So many things were different now, and all of it seemed just wrong. She was bursting at the seams and had no outlet but Mutsumi, and she wasn't willing to find out what sort of shocking changes Mutsumi had gone through.

But it was there, eating away at her. She clenched her fist angrily. Mutsumi looked at her and smiled sadly. "You'd like to know about everything? About Keitaro…?" It looked as though she was finished speaking, but Naru waited, daring Mutsumi to utter what she wanted to say.

"And Motoko…?" she said at last.

Naru frowned, but nodded. A pregnant pause before she demanded, "Everything… I want to know everything…"


	12. Chapter 4:1

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

_ Chapter Four...  
Casualties..._

* * *

The—"…do you remember that… "—flowers seemed to take forever to fall to the ground. As they split—"…because I wanted to say that…"—apart in crisp, clean lines, Keitaro could make out quite clearly the little imperfections in—"…you…"—the cut, caused by inconsistent aerial vibrations. And then, on tip toes like a stalking tiger, the flames rose up from below, eyes glowing with hunger and malice. They quietly sank their teeth into their intended targets, as the blossoms withered and blackened, curling up into hapless shells of their former—"…why I never thought of it like that before…"—existences.

The air was completely black with burning fumes. Somehow, his mind and his perception of his mind were running inconsistently. He felt as though his senses were feeling at normal speed, and yet his grasp of everything felt so oddly surreal, like he were watching the same scenes at high speed a million—

—why he didn't feel at all scared. There he was, facing his own demise, and yet he didn't feel the slightest bit scared. In his hands, Hiza quivered sadly. He gripped it tightly, reassuringly, and grinned. The silhouette that was Motoko, then Naru, then Motoko again, lifted up its black sword. So long as he was going to die, he would at least die knowing where he heart would lie. The enemy stood up moments before he did, and held its sword ready. Simultaneously the spaces in several points began to distort. He actually watched himself a split second before he was there, attacking. The blows landed at the exact same moments. Keitaro doubled over in midair, crying, "—

—times in a single second. It was a hard feeling to explain, and yet somehow, he felt himself kick the cracked windshields open for an eternity before he saw it slowly in his own mind. The glittering shards of glass against the nearly black surroundings reminded him of stars. He stumbled out of the ruined van, pieces of broken glass clinging to his now exposed leg, which was bleeding profusely.

So was his head, for he could feel it dribbling down the side of his—Motoko's name—chin. Seta lay sprawled out over the railing, eyes closed, body lifeless, until Keitaro—Motoko's face—noticed his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. So he would live after all, a relief in itself. And then he stumbled over, rolling himself—Motoko's eyes—onto his—Motoko's smile—back. Perhaps, Keitaro thought to himself, if—Motoko's body—he survived, he would—Motoko's touch—go…

Frowning disappointedly, Keitaro whispered to her softly.

"Motoko, I—"

* * *

She bent down to hear the rest of it, but his lips stopped moving, and she said no more. Her eyes were quite dispassionate, and yet she strained to hear it with surprising interest. When he was decidedly unconscious she stood up and held a finger to her ear, looking up to the sky vacantly. Her eyebrows knitted together, and she glanced for a moment at the second man who had been catapulted from the destroyed car.

Then she looked back down on the young boy, moving her hand to the side of his head. Her expression shifted from a look of extreme worry to one of deep intimacy. Her eyes glazed again for another moment, and she seemed to be looking, or rather listening, to someone else. Resolutely, she lifted the two men over her shoulder, and darted off through the trees, deep into the mountain.

The flames rose up and began to consume everything. The world started to die.

* * *

Motoko sat up suddenly and clutched at her throat reflexively, her hand to the Hina, which had mysteriously appeared at her side. Once she was sure the room was empty, she examined it with a strange look. It had been sitting on its display stand when she had gone to bed, she had been sure of it. Yet here it was, waiting for her to grasp it. Stranger still, she had done so without recollection of ever having such a habit. Even with Shisui, her old sword, she had never kept it next to her bed as though she were about to be attacked at any moment.

The room felt very eerie now that Keitaro was not in it. She looked up at the clock, which read half-past four. It was already very early in the morning. She had expected him to be back by now at least. She wanted to check Keitaro's room. Perhaps he had decided not to wake her and sleep there, but she didn't want to awaken Naru with her footsteps. Experience had taught her that the floorboards where the desk was made very much noise when stepped over. She blushed profusely at the thought.

Naru would be one floor below in a makeshift futon. Surely Motoko did not intend to be caught sneaking into Keitaro's empty room so early in the morning. A sound pulled her from her thoughts. An odd giggling seemed to float about. Perhaps she was throwing around personal accusations, but it seemed to be coming from Su's room.

She stood up then and exited her room wearing only her half-secured kimono. If Keitaro was, in fact, home, he would have left his shoes at the door. By the time Motoko arrived at the end of the hall, she was already frantic. Looking at the doormat while climbing down the stairs as quietly as possible, she confirmed that his shoes were not present at the door.

"Oh, y-you're still awake…"

"N-Naru…!"

Naru sat up from where she had been lying on the couch, her eyes clearly sleepy, but her face energized and her expressions anxious and surprised. She had been waiting all night for Keitaro to come home…

A family emergency had forced her to stay here. She would leave in the morning to get Mei from a nearby hotel and take her back to the Hinata House. Naru looked over Motoko's sparse attire and turned slightly pink. Motoko looked down to see her upper thighs showing, and quickly covered them again. Rolling up into a sitting position, Naru silently made room for Motoko to sit, and grudgingly Motoko accepted her offer.

"I guess you love him after all," she murmured softly. Motoko had nothing to say to this. It was, after all, none of Naru's business. Naturally, Naru caught Motoko's eye as she went on. "I wasn't sure at first, but now I am," she said, smiling dispiritingly. "You really are in love with Keitaro, aren't you?"

When Motoko tried to shrug it off, she added, "How does it feel?" The swordsman gave her to oddest glare, and Naru chuckled bemusedly. "It's just," she explained," that I wanted to know how it felt from someone else. To me it was always so chaotic. Sometimes it was the most repulsive thing ever, and at other times I felt like I wanted to smother myself with him."

Hearing Naru suddenly so honest with her feelings quickly disarmed Motoko, who stood up uncomfortably and walked back up towards the stairs. "Motoko," was the weak and desperate plea. She stopped halfway up, tilting her head very rudely to show she was listening.

"I know you hate me but—please, this is really hard for me to do—I want to apologize for everything I've done. I know how hard you and Keitaro and everyone else tried to stop me, but I had to get away. With everything coming down like that, I just couldn't take it. You understand why I left, don't you? Motoko, please…"

"No…" The wooden handrail cracked audibly in Motoko's tightening fist. She looked at Naru with such a complicated array of painful emotions, emotions that Keitaro had conveyed to her in unimaginable ways, and shot them at Naru's heart with death intended. The effect was, unfortunately, the Naru felt the breath leave her, and she began silently to sob for reasons yet unknown to her. She mouthed the word "please" again, begging Motoko.

"Keitaro and I—!" Motoko started to yell, but stopped herself, regaining her composure. "Keitaro…" and she stopped again, doing her best to hold back the anguish. "He wouldn't say anything for a long time. All I could do was stay by him, while he suffered in silence. It was self-inflicted, and so unwittingly he was agonizing me physically and mentally too. I wouldn't have had to feel that if it weren't for you Naru! He never would have had to make me go through what I did! But I endured it because I loved him, which is more than I can say for you! In fact, maybe if he'd met me first, we might have been a whole lot happier Naru! But it didn't happen that way! Do you know why?!"

But Motoko didn't finish her lecture. She looked at Naru with such a passionate hate that Naru hiccupped and closed her eyes. The handrail finally snapped, and Motoko, nursing splinters, returned to her room, up through the stairs. Naru whimpered, as though she had just died…


	13. Chapter 4:2

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

Several Weeks Earlier...

Somehow, it just didn't look right...

Keitaro was in one of his usual moods, and his long silhouette simply did not belong with the rest of the room. He tilted a glance in her direction, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Her attire was, to be blunt, nonexistent. Instead, she lay beneath a thin blanket which covered but half of her body. She sat up shyly, the fabric rolling off of her breasts, shielding her eyes from the light. Keitaro smiled just a little bit.

"You should sleep, Motoko..."

Then she remembered that it was his room. Motoko stood up quickly, draping a blanket about herself, very aware of how disheveled her appearance was. "I ought to leave," she mumbled sheepishly, looking up at his eyes. He stepped towards her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, stroking her hair. Quashing the urge to laugh he said,

"It was a long night. You aren't tired?"

In truth she was extremely exhausted, and yet seeing him laugh like that pushed all of the right buttons in her. She felt very energized and shook her head exuberantly now that they were making physical contact. "When did you wake up?" she asked quizzically, noticing that he had already dressed.

He glanced at the clock. "Around six. I have class today," he added, turning back to her.

"Y-you're leaving?" Motoko blinked, a sudden emptiness filling her. Keitaro stroked her cheek now, sighing.

"I'll be back in the afternoon," he explained, gathering his bag and materials from his desk. "I promise you'll be the first one to know when I get home." She followed him, wrapping her arm around his neck. They kissed for what could have been a few seconds, a few minutes, maybe even a whole day for all she was concerned, but Motoko wished she didn't have to let go.

"Thank you," Keitaro murmured softly, holding her tightly now. For a moment she would have sworn that he was trembling. She called his name softly, and he let go, looking her in the face. A mixture of pain and happiness was there, in his eyes. The overall expression was telling of his state of mind, and she wondered whether or not he was ready to come to terms with everything. But he answered this unstated query very slowly.

Her heart began to race. "Say it again," she whispered. "Just once more..."

"I love you..."

Now she regretted having asked him. She didn't want to hold him back, but now she loathed the thought of him leaving. But she watched him open the door and step through it. She listened to the sound of his footsteps fading away down the hall. Then, exhaling deeply, she returned to the futon, lay down and covered herself, and began breathing in his scent. It was the first time he had said those words...

* * *

The Present...

He awoke to the sound of music. It was more of a soft hum, really, but he had been aware of the sound for quite some time now, for he distinctly recalled hearing it in his dreams. It was painfully melancholy, and awfully familiar, though he could not quite put his finger on it. He tried to open his eyes, but his head throbbed with the effort. It was, however, bright wherever he was, because his eyelids were burning red from the sun.

"You're awake..." A pair of hands he had not noticed before slid away from the side of his head, and he felt himself fall against a soft pillow. Now the sun was gone, so he opened his eyes slowly.

Everything was completely white, but he could just barely make out the outline of a person, a girl, quite young actually. She stared back at him, tilting her head to the side as though a top-side view did not satisfy her curiosity. "Where am I?" he tried to ask. All that came out was a stifled groan. She shook her head,

"You shouldn't speak yet. It's amazing that you have the capacity for it at all..."

He blinked, trying to remember what had happened. It was something important, or else he wouldn't have felt the urgency to remember it like he did now. His vision, slightly blurry, was defined enough for him to know that he was inside a small room. He watched the young girl whom he did not know stand up and walk away from his vision. He tried to follow her, but his body wouldn't respond. It budged just a little bit though, and he felt as though something heavy had just been removed.

"You're probably still paralyzed from the anaesthetics we used. We had to knock you out because of the pain. I don't know how you survived that..."

His lip quivered slightly. With some effort he mumbled, "What... h-happe—happened...?" She reappeared in view holding a small white bowl, and knelt down on his right side.

"We'll talk about that later, once you've regained full control of your body. For now, since you seem to be able to use your mouth, eat." Then, assisting the process of opening his mouth wide enough to fit food, she pincered a small lump of rice and pushed it down, watching him chew patiently. After a few minutes, he swallowed, and she pushed in a second lump.

"Can you at least... tell me where I... am...?" He was steadily remastering his body. His speech, though labored, was clear and his hands, which tingled awkwardly, were twitching as he tried to move them. But the strange girl whom he did not know merely smiled and pushed in a slightly larger piece of rice.

"The more you do, the more you speed up your metabolism, and the faster the painkillers wear off," she explained, as he adjusted his head for a fourth piece.

After nearly an hour of this, the small little bowl of rice was empty, and he could now move his head from side to side without any difficulty at all. The room, which he had thought was small, was very traditional, with no windows at all and a straw mat for a floor. It was also much larger than he had originally surmised, likely due to his repossession of his sense of depth. He could also move his lower torso, but could not sit up completely.

At last, the nameless girl propped him up against a wooden stand and removed a few of the bandages he had not known were there. "My name is Mayako Kakegawa," she said quietly, unwrapping the cloth around his neck now. "You're in my home deep in the Odawara mountains." She finished the task, leaving the room for the span of a several minutes.

"What do you remember?" she asked once she had returned. He blinked, wracking his brain for answers. It had just occurred to him now that something must have put him here. But what? He came up short. Mayako smiled, relaxing her posture. "Okay, let's start with your name."

Immediately, the name "Motoko" filled his mind. But this couldn't possibly be his name, for it came with a face that was not his. She stared, until he said finally, "I don't know."

"It looks like you had something for a moment," she observed.

But he shook his head. "It wasn't my name. Someone else's..."

"It might be important. Tell me what it was."

He paused, reflecting on it, then nodded. "Motoko," he answered resolutely. "Motoko Aoyama."

"Aoyama... Aoyama..." She studied his face, as though trying to remember something herself. "I hadn't heard that the Aoyama clan had sons... I'm sure of that much. You don't remember your own name?" He shook his head. Suddenly the door slid open. A much older man stood in the doorway, glaring wildly at Mayako.

"T-the other one! He's awake, and he's in pain!"

She stood up suddenly and they hurried away, neglecting even to close the door. It was then that he remembered that—"...this out of love, so why shouldn't it..."—there had been someone with him. "Motoko," he said to himself. Amidst hurried footsteps and panicked shouts, he realized that Motoko Aoyama was someone important to him. Someone very, _very_ important...


	14. Chapter 4:3

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

Motoko stared up into the sky, her expression unreadable. Su, who was clinging to her back like a koala, yawned sleepily and began mumbling about food. Even so, she clung rather tightly to Motoko, as though afraid she would find herself bewildered and alone. Motoko had gotten used to this change in attitude. Rather glad, in the least, to be on speaking terms at all with Su, she often overlooked Su's activities with Shinobu who, like the others, refused to speak to her.

Today was different though. Motoko sensed that Su's presence was more out of a concern for Keitaro who, without explanation, had now been missing for a grand total of four days. They had already contacted the police, who were looking for tips from anyone who had seen Keitaro recently, but thus far had turned up the useless information pertaining to his last hours they had spent together.

She had tried to contact her sister, Tsuruko, in an attempt to gain some advice on how to respond to the current situation. But she, too, had mysteriously vanished on some important business. Kanako as well was nowhere to be found, and she would not answer from any of her contact lines. It was just as well. It seemed that no one wanted to help her these days. Even Keitaro's parents, who felt that she was too overly rough for their son, offered little that pointed to what happened to him.

So now she had set out on her own to find him. The best place to gather resources would be from the God's Cry School. Even without her sister's help, she could certainly enlist the aid of trained scout birds and knowledgeable wanderers who passed throughout the school's in now and then.

And so she was standing here at the train station, dressed in her formal kimono and hakama, the Hina at her side, and Su sleeping on her back. It drew a few stares, but she was used to it by now. The train drew forward from some faraway destination. She waited for the passengers to depart first before clambering through the closing doors.

As the train slowly began to move again, Motoko stared out of its windows and over the blurring outlines of the city. There were many places that she could point out where one of her dates with Keitaro had occurred. Some of them overlapped each other, while others stuck out for their memorable nature. She pressed a hand to her heart and murmured softly, "Keitaro, where have you gone? What's happened to you...?"

Su opened her eyes and looked too.

* * *

Keitaro stared down a long corridor, the mist—"...isn't fair to be the only..."—obscuring his vision beyond an eight or nine meter radius. The miasma that filled this place caused him to feel very sleepy. He—"...up as Naru for you?! Will that..."—recalled the last lines of the riddle that had greeted his entry:

_"Be warned great swordsman, the challenge is great..._

_For the more you forget, the longer to stay awake..."_

It wasn't exactly vague, and Keitaro—"...why..."—felt as though he had missed something important. He recited in his mind the poem again, while he examined cautiously the knobs of several strange doors that stood alone, leading nowhere.

_"Through trouble and toil have you struggled to make..._

_So worthy an effort in order to take..._

_The treasure which lies at this labyrinth's dark base..._

_A secret so guarded by one with no face..._

_By seeing the truth, and discerning the lies..._

_One gains a great strength, from acting so wise..._

_Be warned great swordsman, the challenge is great..._

_For the more you forget, the longer to stay awake..."_

Here was where the riddle ended. That had been hours ago, some who knows how far above it had been, where he had—"...without me..."—read the plaque warning the unwary upon entry. Quite clearly there was a strange and powerful demon guarding the bottom most level. That was straight forward, for it was there, he surmised, that he—"...thinking that, if you hadn't decided on..."—would find her. Find her, and save her...

For now, the memories lost were unimportant. He didn't mind forgetting a few things. The memories he would be making with her in the future were all that mattered to him. He had to find his way to the bottom before she was completely gone.

Without any warning at all, a loud thud echoed from his left. He turned and looked at it, seeing a large white hole rip into the abyss. Compared to everything else, it was so clear. "An illusion," Keitaro muttered, walking towards the source of the sound.

* * *

He sat awake, looking around. His body was still sore and stiff, but he managed to stand up and open the door leading to the courtyard. "Weird," he muttered to himself, as Mayako entered the room with fresh bandages.

"I see you're awake," she said, giggling. He turned to her and smile through the thick wrappings. Loud shouts floated into the room from the courtyard. Little children began running in. He stumbled over them, manically trying to maintain his balance. Once they had crowded around Mayako, who had put down the wooden tray of bandages, she began to attend to them one by one.

Amidst cries of "He hit me!" and "The ball went into the woods!", he looked upon them with a paternal interest. Seeing Mayako play with them warmed his heart. After several minutes, she stood up and clapped her hands. "Alright!" she called their attention, indicating the hallway, "it's breakfast time now, and I have to take care of our guest."

"Okay, Maya-chan!" they said in unison, giggling and laughing as they turned down the corner. Mayako wiped her forehead and sighed, grimacing humorously as he sat back down. As she began removing his bandages she said to him,

"They call you 'Shin' now, you know..."

It was as though she were testing how he would react. But he merely chuckled and looked up at the ceiling. "Is that so?" He turned to her. "And why is that, do you think?"

"Because you look like a corpse," she exclaimed, patting a particularly sensitive area of his arm. He cringed with pain and issued a raspberry, followed by light, bemused laughter. "I guess anyone would, after what you've been through..." His expression darkened when she said this, and she asked him, as she had the last three days, "You still don't remember anything?"

He shook his head, shrugging. "Just Motoko... that's all..." He looked up at the sky through the open door now, not noticing Mayako's heartsick expression.

"Motoko," he muttered. "Weird..."


	15. Chapter 4:4

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the content following this statement. All titles, names, and plots are owned by Ken Akamatsu and TokyoPop inc.

**Warning**: The following may contain material that some viewers may not find suitable.

* * *

The following days were primarily composed of mindless idling. Once he had recovered enough to be out of bed, Shin would spend most of his time in the shrine library, reading various books and satisfying his interests. If he was not inside researching, he could be found in the inner courtyard, playing with the children.

He was quite popular with them for his crafts, and rarely, if ever, did they spare him free time over them. For the boys he would make paper airplanes, which they then proceeded to throw all around the area, attempting to make them smash into one another in midair. The girls preferred origami cranes and swans, though he often made tulips out of paper for his own amusement. But there would always be time for everyone at once, when one by one, the children would bring up one of their own books for him to read aloud.

At the end of the day when the children were called in, Shin would pick up the mess left behind. When he had finished that task, he would set about whatever business came to him. If none presented itself, he would take walks around the premises.

This routine had continued uninterrupted for four days. Today would be five. He sighed as he crossed the familiar wooden bridge over the koi-filled lake, made his way around the beautiful outer court flower gardens, and made his way to a bench which sat in the middle of a spacious flat ground whose purpose was yet unknown.

He paused mechanically, staring up at the blood red sky. The twilight here was always so beautiful. Was there any place with a sunset more graceful than this? If there was, he wanted to find that place. It would be the end of every journey, and most certainly the end of his. He felt as though, staring at the moving scene, someone might join him, hold his hand and watch it with him.

Shin twiddled his fingers, grunting dismally when he confirmed that, as usual, there wasn't anyone beside him. He raised his good hand and stared at his fingers, opening and closing his fist. There was a long gash running from the center of his right palm and down through his muscle arm. On the opposite end, between the bone, was another scar where the object had penetrated completely.

He stared at the lines in his palm, wondering if his fate in palm reading had been somehow altered. He reached into his kimono, feeling at the little flecks of leathery tissue, tracing the lines that ran through his chest. Then he hit bandage and went back swiftly, running his finger over his heart, which beat steadily.

Why did it he have this horrible feeling inside? Being unable to remember anything about who he had been made him feel so weak and helpless. A man unable even to recall his childhood. What sort of man was that? Rather than answer that question, Shin shrugged to himself and began walking back the way he came.

* * *

The door opened with a loud clatter. Mayako looked up from the bed side. Startled, she hastily tucked the last corner in and turned around to face him properly. "You scared me," she said quickly, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Recovering, she stood up and helped Shin make his way to the floor. He chuckled and grinned, allowing her free manipulation of his left arm. She freed it from the kimono and began unwrapping the thick cast, keeping one eye on what she was doing, and another on Shin.

"You're recovering very quickly. At this rate we'll have these off in a few more days," she commented, bending over to examine his arm, which had become soft and pale in its isolation. She continued, "Well, we'll just wash it and air it off, and you should be good as new."

She looked up at Shin, who smiled appreciately, and felt her insides melt. Mayako jerked her head away quickly, instead focusing her attention on an unremarkable pattern in his shoulder. "So what do you plan to do?" she asked, after washing his arm thoroughly and patting it dry, "when we find out who you are and release you?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno. Pick up the pieces, I guess..." He stared distantly as he said this, trying once more to remember at least a shred of his past. Mayako took the opportunity to steal a glance.

Looking as young as he did, she would not be surprised if his age matched to late high school. He was clearly older than she was, yet perhaps not so old. His face, which might fit well on the body of a child, was soft and smooth. His eyes, a light brown, glinted in the light, even when there wasn't any light to be found. His hair, which had grown to a point, stretched down his neck and poked a few hairs beyond the kimono.

He was also quite thin, though it would not be entirely untrue to say he was scrawny. Yet there was sinewy muscle that she could feel when she examined his body every evening. When she felt around each structure, engrossing herself in her task, she found pleasure in locations those subtle points which made him twitch or turn his head. She would aggravate those spots as subtly as possible, moving on to the next location once the present one had been satisfied. Did he notice the way she stared at him?

"I don't think there are any bandages there," he murmured, looking at her quizically. Mayako looked back blankly, and then pulled her hands behind her back and edged away. "S-sorry," she muttered, trying not to let him see how much she was blushing. "I wasn't paying attention. Well, we can... wrap your arm up again, now..."

She finished the process quickly, taking care not to get distracted. When she stood up to bring him his dinner he nodded silently and lay back down. She tossed him one last look before passing through the door, trying to force his smile out of her mind.


End file.
